Buttons
by xoxo.magpie
Summary: A simple outfit with too many buttons combined with a few too many drinks at a ministry function ends in an interesting night for Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy. HG/DM. ONE SHOT.


Buttons

Dip, and... sway.

Fuck.

No matter which way she moved in this outfit, she looked like a slag.

"Ginny Weasley." She murmured angrily, as she tried to adjust the button up shirt (that had, in her opinion, far too many buttons) to cover a little more of her ample chest, fixing the pair of jeans covering her legs and pondering once more in the full length mirror how her red headed counterpart had decided this would be at all appropriate for the ministry function they were attending that evening.

"Granger! Lets go!" Called the far too cheery voice of her dear friend and flat-mate.

"Remind me again why I listen to you?" Was her all-too unimpressed response as she caught up to the small woman giggling infront of her.

"You look damn hot, now get in the fireplace! We're going to be so late."

As the brunette pushed past and into the fire she felt a hand smack her ass and couldn't help but roll her eyes at her friends overly sexual attitude. When she emerged from the fire she was standing in a rather posh wizard club that was decked to the nines, ministry colleagues as far as the eye could see (at least into the dark hazy corners of the club) and a beat with a low, pounding bass line.

It didn't take long for her eyes to find his- it never did. For some reason they always seemed to stand out the brightest, though they weren't necessarily an impressive colour. The look in them at that moment was saying something she hadn't seen before, generally they were devoid of emotion at all though, she reminded herself.

Soon enough Ginny had found her and was pushing a glass of unknown alcohol into her hands and laughing as she knocked it back, joining the brunette in the liberty of downing her drink. "Come on, get your ass on the dance floor mammie!"

Where Ginny had picked up this muggle slang was beyond Hermione's comprehension as she tossed down another drink from a passing waiter and, shaking the buzz away from the edges of her mind, made her way onto the floor with Ginny in tow.

Ginny had been the one who taught Hermione how to dance like a slut. It had been her 'eighth' year (post war, of course) and she was dragged clubbing by the girls in her dorm and Hermione had been at a loss at what to do. Textbooks didn't tell you this sort of thing, after all. When they had gotten started, they realized that dancing together was truly the way to attract the blokes and so here they were, nearly ten years later, at it again.

"Don't look now, but the blonde's eying you again..." Ginny purred in her ear as they moved their bodies together. Hermione had almost forgotten about him until she looked back to catch the look in his eyes- it threw her off guard.

His eyes were screaming to her. Begging for her, clouded over with lust and darkened with arousal- she almost groaned. Grinding against Ginny, looking into his eyes filled with so much emotion- she was going to come right there and then!

Forcing the thoughts of her wantonly spread eagle on his presumably silk sheets as he pound into her far into the depths and recesses of her mind, Hermione returned her attention to Ginny.

"Please. He's fronting- sitting there and watching. He won't do anything. Besides, he's hardly the type I fall for."

Ginny's evil smirk seemed to say that she knew more then her response (which was silence, as often with Ginny) was letting on to, but Hermione didn't press it.

It wasn't a minute later when she felt another warm body pressing against her back and Ginny's was gone from her front, with her eyes closed Hermione truly had no idea what was going on.

The body behind hers was hard, solid. A firm chest pressed into her back and a raging erection ground against her, causing her to whimper softly, but no, this wouldn't do. Spinning quickly, her eyes made contact with his piercing grey ones and that about did it.

A hand pressed onto his chest and Hermione began to walk, pushing him off the dance floor, eyes searing into his. As soon as they were in the darkness and shadows, Hermione allowed her guard to drop as she pressed him into the nearest wall, body against his, grinding slowly as her lips moved up to lick a line over his ear.

His hands were sliding down slowly, running over her backside, her frontside, hell, she couldn't tell front from back at this point. Her mind was so thick with desire she knew it wouldn't be long now until she had her clothes off right here and then!

"Can't... be here... my place?" She managed to purr out, voice low and husky, his guttural groan cinched the deal and in an instant they were gone, apparated into her house, her bedroom. Pushing him back to the bed, Hermione let out a soft laugh.

"Granger..." He growled, leaning softly back onto his elbows on his bed, and she shook her head, the beat of the club still in her head as she began to move, dip, sway. She knew she looked like a slag as her hands raised to play with her hair, loving the look on his face as they trailed down again to the front of her chest.

He was standing, up against her, lips hard on hers. The passion and intensity of the kiss was melting her legs and she had to lean into him to avoid crumpling to the ground.

"Malfoy..." She husked, and he laughed softly into her lips.

"Draco." He corrected, and she nodded as his teeth found her neck, drawing a deep moan from her throat. "I want you so bad, Hermione..." he moaned and she was able to plant her hand firmly on his chest again, pushing him back onto his chest and climbing on to straddle him, licking her lips deeply.

"Loosen up my buttons, babe..." She purred, opening her arms to give him full access to her chest, and he smirked, wrapping his hand around the collar of her top.

In one quick aggressive movement fabric tore and buttons flew across the room, causing her to shout out, and then quickly regain composure.

Reaching behind her, she unhooked her bra and laughed at his low moan.

"I wonder if I'm just too much for you?" She purred in a teasing, inviting tone. In another movement she was under him and his top was gone too, her jeans were being yanked (not too kindly, she might add) down her legs and his trousers were gone in a flash.

Panties and boxers were left and in the way but eager hands (hers or his? She couldn't remember) made quick work of those and they paused for a moment, looking down at their already heaving chests and slightly glistening bodies.

He was inside her. He was pounding and thrusting into her, drawing gasps and moans and sounds of pleasure from her, deep low moans from him. As his teeth found her neck and her fingernails found his back together they groaned out, they were close. She could feel it, with each thrust into her, each brush of his thumb over her nipple, she was going to blow any moment...

When they came, they came together in a single motion, each letting out a shout of joy, pleasure, release, need, want, desire.

And to think, it all started with a slaggy outfit with far too many buttons.


End file.
